Involuntary Saga
by Rebershekk
Summary: When Scott and Virgil are broken, Alan's left crippled by guilt, Gordon's finally out of his depth, and John's left to spiral out of control. Injuries, dark themes and language in later parts. - Made of many small chapters so not actually as huge as it seems I promise.
1. Twitching

Hands are useful things, wonderfully useful. He loves his hands. Loved, he corrects. He watches his fingers twitch as the red seeps into the blue fabric making it a deep, dark brown, the bloody overflow is driven into the mud by the rain that is stabbing at him, the drops hit the skin and bore their way into his flesh, freezing him from the inside out.

The mud under is almost warm in comparison, holding him in a caring embrace, the foliage brushing against his skin, wiping the rain and sweet from his face as a fever of shock starts to pull at his insides.

He wonders dully how much of the arm he will loose as the fingers continue to twitch. He inspects the trap that bites his flesh and that has torn and ripped muscles from bone as he fell, the trapped twisted snapping the fragile bone underneath and now he lays here, ignoring the fact his legged don't ache and he can't answer his brothers shouting for him, begging him to answer. He focus on his twitching fingers and how tired he is, wondering if he will keep his hand.


	2. Shivers

He lay in the blackness as his body tingled, the tacky warmth an unpleasant contrast the bitter cold that assaulted him. Frozen fingers pressed against the boiling flesh as the lava of blood seeped through. It hurt, and it took all his remaining effort not to pull his hands away from the ache.

He called with a cracked voice for his brother, begging for a response, but none came. He thought for a moment, turning the facts over slowly in his sluggish mind, had he not heard? Had he actually called out? He tried to call louder, but this only seemed to motivate the flow crawling its escape from his neck.

He wanted to sit up and search, but his body didn't respond and he was suddenly left wondering why it was so dark, it had been bright not long ago, then the searing heat of the sun had burnt his face, he'd screamed and now it was black. So black, and so silent, he couldn't even hear his own heart in his ears. The his fingers weren't burning any more, neither where they cold, he could hardly feel them now. He could hardly feel anything.

And tremor of fear shot through him and he called again as his grasp slipped from his neck.

'Please' he begged the silent blackness. 'Please be okay'


	3. Bystander

It was like watching a film in slow motion.

The crack came first, the creaking of metal as it buckle and snapped with the pressure then the rolling boom of the explosion and it flowed from the broken engine, sending shards of casing and craft everywhere. He watched as his brothers where thrown back by a cushion of air and metal ripped up drift., as they rag dolled, rolling and cracking against the unforgiving ground.

Alan watched as Scott slammed against a tree, falling to the ground, pawing at the blood that streamed from his neck with numb arms, leg twisted and the blood that bloomed across his chest in a beautifully macabre fashion that reminded him of flowers in opening for the morning sun.

Virgil rolled, bouncing, becoming tanged in chains that had lain hidden in the dirt, that they had missed to clear as iron bit into this soft flesh before vanished from sight over the ridge, for a moment the chain pulled taught and something cracked, metal or bone he couldn't tell but the line came loose, whipping after and out of sight.

Alan is stunned. he is welded into place, body unmoving. He can feel the hit, the air being sliced as blades of metal shoot past his face, feels the heat and the rolling wall of air that pushes him off his feet and on to this back. He falls the mushy ground cushioning his fall as rain beginnings to fall vertically again and a terrible silence settles in beyond the ringing of his ears, but he still can't move.


	4. False Awakenings

'John' had watched with morbid fascination as the men he called his brothers had been thrown; like leaves caught in a storm. Helpless.

Scott hit a tree with the satisfying sound of something giving and weak connecting with something truly unrelenting joined by the crunch of bones, while Virgil tumbled down the ridge, wrapped in iron chains and a biting trap and cries of pain, and all the while Alan watched in… he wasn't sure, before being swept off his feet as the explosion reached him.

there was a tug, something deep down that told him he should feel bad, that he should mourn for the loss that these men would endure. he was torn.

there men where his brothers, his life. he owed everything to them, but, this wasn't real. they where a representation of something he needed to understand to escape, but what? He could not work it out and he had been trying for a while. This was the key though, he was sure of it.

He rewound the video and watched it through again. He had seen it through so many times he was deaf to the explosions and screams now. He jumped when the the comms sparked up, Alan was calling again. He sighed and pondered for a moment, he would have to give in and talk to the youngest eventually. He swiped the video away and answered the call.

Answers could wait, dream or not he felt bad for leaving the child alone after what he had been through.


	5. Rewind

Gordon had been enjoying lazing about. Enjoying the warm sand as he worked on his tan. He had the day off, so unless it was a an emergency that absolutely needed everyone he didn't have to go. This meant plenty of time to do a whole lot of nothing and when a call had come in, as they tended to, he had absent-mindedly wondered what the world would do without them as he waved his brothers off with that smug air of a man with solid plan of sleeping and sunbathing.

After a while though something felt wrong. there was a sickening, wrenching feeling that told him he should be doing something. He proper himself up on his elbows as the feeling grew and twisted, like a set of roots it wormed its way through him, digging deep into his bones.

The warm sands underneath where cold as worry drove him back to the villa, he needed to call them, he needed to be sure that this was nothing. That taking today wasn't a mistake he would live to regret.

Hitting the kitchen made him halt dead as his grandmother sat in tears while Casey's hologram stood in an eerie blue stoicism.

The world buzzed around him like screeching static, he couldn't hear what was said, he didn't need to, those roots where enough. they dug deeper and deeper and had no intention of leaving.


	6. Familar Strangers

Kayo had flown them here and now she sat in the hall with Alan and Gordon in the horrible silence that said so much more then words ever could.

When they'd arrived Grandma had been swept away by the doctors in a flurry of words and worry, while her and Gordon where led to Alan. She had never seen him looking so young before.

The two sat huddled, Gordon holding on to his brother talking to him in hushed tones while Alan stared ahead with tear fogged vision, leaving kayo with but her own thoughts and worries. She had asked the passing doctors and nurses for updates, but they didn't know, or brushed her off informing her she wasn't family so they couldn't tell her.

It was a harsh reminder of a fact she had long hoped no longer mattered, she wasn't family. The people she had grown up with and learnt with, had shed blood and tears with weren't family and never would be, no matter what. If they died and there was no one to tell her she would never know, she would be left in the dark because she has no right to know in the eyes of the world.

So she is sitting here, listening to Gordon talk to his sibling. His actual sibling while she is crushed by worry and the knowledge that in the long run, she doesn't much matter when blood comes into play.


	7. Postponement of Affect

No one should have to bury their child, but she had. No one should have to loose a loved one without saying good bye, but again, she had. No one should loose a grandchild, and right now she stands a solid chance of loosing two in one fell swoop. She sits next his bed. he looks so small. A mass of bandages and broken limbs, she wants to touch him and reassure herself that he is there, he survived and then cling on lest he slip away, but she is scared to touch him. he looks so fragile. She is scared to even brush the brown curl off the painfully white bandages that sit wrapped around his face protecting scorched eyes from the harsh light.

She hasn't seen Virgil yet and she doesn't know which will be worse, one of them them is threatened by paralysis while the other is without what in essence makes him, him.

Both are trapped though, and thats what hurts. Well, if they…

At least she can hold onto Scott, or could if she had the strength to, but she doesn't and she is scared and alone. She has to force the certainty that everything will be alright, that they will be fine, Alan and Gordon look to her for that, because John refuses to supply it.


	8. Night Terrors

In body Alan is safe, here is here with his brother in the walls of sterile pastels, in mind he is trapped in a world is movement and panic. In the damp sounds of Scott struggling to breath and Virgil asking why he can't feel anything. those are the things that Alan will remember whether he wants to or not. No matter what he can't escape the smell of burnt hair.

He can feel Gordon holding him, and can hear him, but he is stuck in the loop and the painful realisation that they are mortal. His brothers are small and fragile, and then he is wondering what that makes him? They are bigger then him, better then him and now they are here, broken or worse.

He is pulled briefly from the memories when Gordon stands. Their grandmother comes towards them seeming so frail. He has never seen her so seeming her age before. They talk in hushed tones and Gordon informs him they can go see their brothers for five minutes as long as they're quiet, there is a sense of panic. He can't face them, not yet. He can't face seeing what he has done. He makes his excuses and watches as Gordon and her return. Leaving him to return to the nightmare that spirals about his mind, and Kayo to wait.


	9. Inexorable

Its hard to tell when you're awake or not when the world is dark. There is a dull ringing that won't stop, the base of his skull is screaming at him, his bones ache and every inch of skin above his hips feel like its on fire.

Just beyond the incessant screaming in his ears he can hear the bleeping of machines and sobbing of his grandmother as she begged him to do something, to say something or move.

He could do it, should maybe, to reassure her he is alive, but, he doesn't want to honestly. He didn't want to face being alive, being awake. Didn't want to face what he knew would be waiting for him if he let them know.

No.

The longer he lay here in this worrying darkness that closed in around him, grabbing and clawing at longer he pretended to be dead, meant the longer he could put off the inevitable.

It meant he didn't have to know why he couldn't feel the rough blankets on his feet, Why the world was so dark, and why Virgil had never answered his pleas.


	10. Fragmentation

He wants to hit something, to hurt someone. To grab a hold and crush them and scream at the top of his lungs, to feel something, anything, other then this nothingness.

Its a helpless anger that makes him feel sick. It crawls about under his skin and gnaws at his bones, whispering constant reminders that he is broken now, he can't hurt anyone because he can't even hurt himself. Even laying down he is dizzy, ears ringing through water muffling the world around him.

Grandma is talking happily, pleased he is awake. Gordon had come in earlier, but left quickly to take Alan home when he found it too awkward. Grandma never stopped talking though, he wasn't listening though. He was glaring at the ceiling doing his best not to scream or cry, because no matter how hard he tried he couldn't grasp hold of the sheets, and now she was getting quieter while that muffled ringing grew, causing the pulsing pain behind his eyes while he cursed an itch he couldn't scratch.

You needed hands for that you see.

You need to be whole for that.


	11. Omitted

He was used to it as far as it went, leaving the lab to find the place empty, be it because it was it a silly time in the morning or they where on rescues and he wasn't needed for consultation, but there was generally a note, a message. Something.

Today was different though, he had emerged from his den, summoned by the sound of a rescue. When he realised he wouldn't be needed he had returned to it. Several hours later when the growl of his stomach demanded something had left again, finding the villa cold and dark and empty. None of the boys, Grandma was gone and so was Kayo, he was alone.

He called John but found the call remained unanswered, the middle child was getting more and more distant, not that the others would listen, but this was not the time to be dealing with that.

What could he do though?

He tried Gordon but again the call was left unanswered. He sat and thought for a long while before the roar of an engine informed him of the others return, hopefully with answers of some sort.


	12. Recurrence

John was bored and tired. The island had called but he had ignored it in favour of his stars. He needed answers but had no way of getting them, well he did, maybe. Problem was what if he was wrong? He was fairly certain he wasn't but fairly wasn't a high enough to potentially destroy everything if he was wrong.

It seemed Eos had finally learnt that he wanted silence. Her chattering had been driving him mad, he needed to think, to find answers and her musings where only adding to his confusion. Part of him had wanted to shut her off, to mute her and silence her forever, but he couldn't because she was right and that was the problem, well, part of the problem.

The line was not blurred, it was gone. Missing. Leaving him standing here lost and confused, and yet he was the one that was supposed to know what was happening, what was going on. He was supposed to have the answers to their questions.

The island was calling again, watched the little flashing icon and wondered if he could put them off again, it wasn't like they would fly up and get him, they had far bigger problems at the moment. Maybe they where calling to tell him they had died, he wouldn't be surprised really. He swiped it away and called up the video of the explosions again.

He needed to find that line.


	13. Forbearance

The trip home was painfully long and achingly silent.

Alan sat in the back while him and Kayo sat in the cabin. He would look back every now and then, and just see his brother huddled in the seat, looking out the small window forlornly. Gordon could see he was still playing it over and over in head and wished there was something he could do. He looked to Kayo as she announced their approach to the island.

Their grandmother had decided to stay with Scott and Virgil, though Gordon had a horrid suspicion that they didn't want her there. He had spoken to Scott, he knew the eldest had been faking how much he was sleeping, that was his thing, and Virgil had out right told him to leave and hadn't been particularly polite about it, But when their grandmother was there they where silent. There was an air of putting up with it for her sake, but it was a cold feeling. They lay bitter and angry while she talked happily about what she would do when they where home.

He pushed the thoughts aside as they landed, he had to deal with Alan. His brothers where old enough to look after themselves and his grandmother was more then capable.

If anyone could get through to them he had faith it would be her.


	14. Perfection

The English countryside was beautiful and no one would be able to convince her otherwise, the rolling hills and sea of soft oranges and reds as the trees gave in Autumn, all under that bitter steel-grey sky and clouds weighted down with rain that fell in slow, heavy blots.

Sherbet yipped as the rain drops as they hit the window, Penny smiled pulling her eyes from the window and the dog as her bags began to buzz. With precise movements she slipped her hand in, wrapping long carefully manicured fingers about the compact, smiling as she snapped it open.

She was used to opening to different reactions, the job she was in led to a lot of situations and emotions, this was a new one though. The small hologram that her was not the Gordon Tracy she was used to; bright and vibrant and annoyingly garish. No, this Gordon was drawn and tired, almost lost.

She was a professional though, and her smile never wavered despite her concerns. He forced a small smile that never reached eyes heavy with hurt. She asked what was wrong, and he told her, he told her everything, there was a desperation in that voice that said he needed her to listen and she was happy to.

There had been an accident on a rescue, and now Scott and Virgil where in hospital, but it wasn't them, and John is pretty much gone missing and no one had told Brains and Kayo is ignoring him and Alan… Alan was broken and Gordon didn't know what to do and he was begging her to come save him before he drowned.


	15. Grounded

Parker hadn't been surprised when he was informed to head home so they could pack after he heard the call between her Ladyship and Master Gordon. The young Sir sounded positively broken and he couldn't blame him, from what he had overheard anyway.

While he hadn't gone into details and Parker hadn't heard everything, the tone was more then enough to give away that the situation was bad. A rescue gone wrong what he had gathered and if he was honest, he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. You didn't do a job like that and expect it to end well, he had long ago resigned himself to the fact he would be attending one of their funerals, and now it seemed like it would be time to dust that suit off.

He wondered how long they would be staying with the Tracys, he didn't like the heat of the island. it seemed dependent on what happened though and he couldn't really plan much without asking for details, which of course was rather improper of him to ask right now when her ladyship seemed distracted by the news.

He guessed a week at least, dependent on if the boys left the hospital.


	16. Two Sides

Relief. That was how he'd describe it, utter relief.

His grandmother had finally left and he'd managed to pester a nurse to take him to Virg.

Now the two lay in an almost comfortable silence, Scott in the wheelchair while Virgil lay in the bed. He had wanted to hold his brother, to cling to him. A solid anchor in this new world, but he couldn't.

He had come in seeking his brother's comfort, his ability to make everything easier, to reassure him with a simple touch. He had come in seeking those hands. Instead, he'd found only more worry, more fear. He was hurt. More hurt than Scott had dared to think. His brother was alive, but he didn't sound it, didn't feel it, and Scott was helpless to fix it.

So they sat there. Scott wanted to say something but what? How did you fix what you couldn't even see, and deep down a small part of him was glad he was blind in that moment, so he couldn't see his brother, because he was sure that would break him.

He was failing, had failed in the most basic of duties. He had failed to protect his brother. He reached out, working his fingers along the bed until he found the warm, rough bed shirt, and he clung on to that with all his strength, praying his brother would forgive his failure, as he knew he would never be able to forgive himself.


	17. Of the same Coin

Part of him felt bad about how pleased he was when his grandmother had finally left. The rest of him was glad—really, really glad.

The relative silence was a gift, though what he wouldn't give for that murky dull ringing to stop. He was fearful to say it was getting worse but for the time being he could live with it now her nattering was gone.

He was drifting in and out of sleep when Scott woke him up with a start. He was glad to see his brother at first, but then it dawned on him. Scott was couldn't see; the extent of it he couldn't say, but the tightly wrapped bandaging about his face and the padding that sat over his brother's eyes didn't fill him with confidence and then he realised no one had told him about him. Scott had been wheeled in and reached out, patting the bed, seeking his hand, and for the longest time Virgil feared to tell him.

'I can't.'

Two words that crushed him to say. Scott sat and sank. Virgil wanted to say more, to reassure his brother, but how? All he could think to say were lies: sour things that crumbled on his tongue and made him feel sick.

So the two of them sat in silence, enjoying the comfort the presence of the other offered. Scott reached out again. Hand patting along the sheet until he found his torso, resting his fingers there. Eventually Scott fell asleep, leaving Virgil listening to his snoring. It was almost reassuring.

Almost.


	18. Unnecessary

Ruth Tracy understood loss.

She understood lashing out in grief, that sometimes when you felt like the world was against you, you got fed up with it. You had to push back, to fight against the cards you had been dealt. She understood this better than most people, she felt. That didn't mean being on the receiving end of it didn't hurt. That she hadn't wept when Scott had snapped at her, launching the small table across the room. That she hadn't been crushed when he told her in no uncertain terms that he and Virgil were sick of her hovering like some unwanted fly.

Once the words were said, a bitter, angry silence fell.

Scott said nothing, sucking in air through gritted teeth, trembling with rage, while Virgil, propped up by pillows, gazed out the window like nothing was happening. She had looked to him, pleading, but he had simply told her to leave, never moving his gaze to her. So now she sat here in this cold airport, waiting for someone to come pick her up, sniffling like some teenager after her first breakup. She felt stupid and foolish, hurt and betrayed.

So she cried.


	19. Secrets

He was pleased to be home, to get away from the eyes and hands and false smiles.

He fled to his room and climbed under the bed, crawling to the far corner, safe and sound and surrounded by darkness. The small, tight space that hid him from the world. No one had ever found him here, and that was what he wanted, needed: sanctuary. Escape.

He could hear them enter every now and then, they'd look and call out, but they never found him.

Time passed, the shadows along the floor shifted and faded; he fell asleep and awake again, stiff and sore. A plate of food sat in the middle of the room but he didn't move to collect it. He wasn't hungry.

Kayo entered, calling out. They were going to pick up their grandmother. She was asking if he wanted to go. He cringed, biting into his hand and shutting his eyes against the new information, but that didn't help. He was back at the explosion, the sickening thuds as his brothers fell.

Grandma coming home meant she would want to help, she would need to smother him, to get him to explain what had happened and how and why. It was bad enough to know what had happened, to constantly be reliving it, but to put it into words? To admit what had happened? That it had been his fault? Alan didn't think he could cope with that. So now he lay here in his dark little burrow, crushed by guilt and memories and the fear of what was to come.


	20. Distasteful

Kayo had been putting it off, they'd arrived home and she had cleaned and showered and done just about everything she could think of before going to him, in the end though she had run out of excuses.

Finding brains had been easy enough, telling him what had happened had not. He would blame himself, no matter what she said or did he would shoulder the perceived mistake.

'An engine fault on a piece of machinery you've never seen or touched caused the mistake. Not you'

And then it started, what he could have done. How he could have prevented it. How he should have prevented it.

She gave the scientist the rundown of the injuries and answered questions if she could, and left him to his misery.

Moving on to her next task of informing John of things. She was surprised when he'd picked up, she had honestly been expecting to be ignored again. She was less surprised with the flat uninterested manner he took the news in, spinning round to horror at the near disappointment in his features when told his brothers were going to live. He more or less hung up on her after that and she desperately tried to reassure herself she had imagined it, that frown and the simple 'oh' filled with annoyance and the outright lie 'that's good'.

She felt sick.


	21. Hindsight

Brains had sat at his desk after Kayo had left. Sitting and thinking while MAX sat and watched.

He was here to make sure the Tracys were safe, he built their equipment, tested it and maintained it, well, apart from Thunderbird Two. He scoffed, he would be doing that now wouldn't he? giving Virgil's state. His stomach twisted at the thought, and what about Scott? He pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes as the thoughts about the two of them stumbled about his mind, and now Mrs Tracy was coming home and she would be looking at him, telling him what he already knew, that he should have had a way to ensure things like this didn't happen, and she would be right. Out of everything he had made and built and tested he hadn't thought of anything like this, and why not? He should have, they had been caught in fires and explosions in the past, so why hadn't he taken that and thought of an example like this, Virgil had had to work on machinery on site before. He should have put two and two together! He cringed as he heard the engines rolling in, an ominous whine announcing the matriarch's arrival.


	22. Chipped

He placed the tray down, the not-so-delicate mugs clacking as he did. Her Ladyship sat next to Mrs. Tracy, hand carefully placed on the woman's arm.

He dropped the teabags into the mugs, mugs which he had carefully made sure had nothing vulgar written on them. They were large, heavy things designed to survive the rough usage and constant knocks that a house of five boys will put them through; the chips and glue were a testament to the fact. It was a stark contrast to the fine bone china that had the men in fear of using them.

He poured milk and water, stirring carefully before handing them out, one to her Ladyship, one for Mrs. Tracy, and one for Master Gordon. Everyone else was eerily absent, and Master Gordon didn't much look like he wanted to be here. That was when Mrs. Tracy explained in detail what she knew and how the boys were, and how they'd told her to leave, and he understood. Had he not been in service of her Ladyship quiet so long, he would have missed the worry that passed ever so briefly over her features. There was concern and almost fear, then anger.

Master Gordon looked irritated at the direction of the discussion, and Parker suspected it was because the woman didn't understand what he did and what Parker did, the crippling fear that follows an accident of that magnitude. To be bound so tightly in the unknown and the knowledge that nothing is going to be the same. Much like the mugs, you could glue them but they remained chipped and cracked. The scars remained.

Instead, the men sipped their tea while Penny smiled softly at the teary grandmother.


	23. Cracks

After Mrs. Tracy left to lay down and Parker was dismissed, Penelope convinced Gordon to go for a walk with her.

They padded down the beach barefoot, the soft, warm sands seeping between her toes, a deep orange under the setting sun while the stretched and elongated shadows made the young Tracy look older, hardened—at least, she hoped it was the shadows that did that.

They stopped after a while and she waited, watching as the sun finally left and gave way to the night. At first she wasn't even sure he had spoken, he was so quiet; then he said it again, looking her in the eyes.

' _They're not right Penny._ ' He sighed, a heavy weight almost visibly crushing him and then he spilt it, all his worries and fears. John was outright scaring him, and Alan had vanished, and it seemed that Scott and Virgil had left part of their very being with that engine, and he was here and alone and he had no idea what to do. What was he supposed to do, this wasn't his area.

He looked at her, pleading, but she had nothing. So she did all she could think to do and slipped her arms about his neck and held him as he clung to her, burying his head in the crook of her neck and cried.


	24. Knife's Edge

'John' had slipped up, he suspected. Kayo had seemed more than a little concerned at the end of that last call.

He stood before the holo-emitter and thought, she wouldn't want to tell the others anything, not yet, she wouldn't want to give them another thing to worry about with everything else that was going on, and that bought him some time to work out what to do.

He had never been a very good liar and now that simple lack of skill was going to ruin everything, it was going to trip him here. He sighed in agitation, running a hand through his hair. Perhaps, he thought, he was over thinking things, maybe it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. Maybe? He was overthinking, he needed to stop, to pause.

Pressing his fingers against his temples, he shut his eyes and thought, taking a long slow breath.

Stop. Assess. Take control. Wake up.

He could do this. His 'brothers' were key, he knew that, and they were still alive, so the answer was simple. Stop them being alive. How, though? Well, again, the answer was simple. Putting it into practice wouldn't be, but he didn't have a choice really, did he?

He sighed and waved a hand over the controls, calling the island. He didn't have a choice. He didn't really want to, because they were still his brothers here at least, and he was... attached to them, in a sense, but things hadn't worked out and now he had to do this, he had to take control.

He couldn't leave things down to chance again, he had waited too long. He had put things off for too long.

He didn't have a choice, not anymore.


	25. Divided

She didn't know what John was playing at, but she didn't believe his apology for a second.

He had called back a few minutes after hanging up on her. He was sorry, apparently, for his rather callous attitude of late. He was tired, he hadn't been sleeping well and then with all of this he just... He didn't know anymore. Kayo wanted to believe him, she did, something deep down said that he was hurting badly and confused and she _needed_ * to help him, but the rest of her was screaming this wasn't right.

She stood on the platform for the elevator waiting for him, she couldn't help herself. She was alone, pushed aside by everyone else so caught up in their own grief, and she didn't blame them if she was honest, but John had always been there for her and she wanted him there now. To assure her that she did matter, that she was a part of this family, so here she stood, chewing on her thumbnail while her better sense of judgment screamed at her.

The module anchored in place and he stepped out, smiling at her. The simple greeting pushed aside her fears as she stepped forward. he slipped long arms around her and held her tightly. She was screaming at herself, everything she had learnt in her life told her no, this was a mistake, but she didn't care as she returned the embrace because right then, this was her John. This was who she needed.


	26. Arrangements

John had been surprised and very glad to see Kayo there if he was honest. He shouldn't he knew, she wasn't real, but he couldn't help it, he still…

He wrapped his arms about her, pulling in the scent of sea air from her hair, holding tighter when he felt her return the gesture. Everything he was about to do would hurt, but he would be okay if she stayed by him.

He would need to keep her safe, to make sure she didn't know what he would do, before or after.

They two walked towards the house in mostly silence, the polite small talk was exchanged but other then that very little was said.

They were headed for the bedrooms, John in desperate want for a change of clothes.

Gordon's door was pushed and Penny walked out, setting her hair in place, she smiled politely pushing past as Gordon followed. They stood for a moment, polite smiles as Kayo smiled and carried on down the corridor. There was polite words, Gordon welcomed him home and John faked interest.

'Are you going to see Scooter and Virg?' the question wasn't unexpected, it was after all, why he was earthside, it still hit him though, a short jab to the stomach as it reminded him exactly _why_ he was here.

'Yes' he answered, short and sweet and not untrue. 'Tomorrow or the day after' he needed tonight to plan, to make sure he knew what to do. Then he would visit and work out his route and everything would fall into place. Then he would wake up, and everything would be better. He was a little apprehensive if he was honest with himself, this had been such a long time coming and now to be this close? It would be worth it though.


	27. Relations

He felt better now, Penny had a gift for putting things in perceptive for him. She pecked his cheek and he could feel the heat rising in his face as she smiled, turning to the door and running those long fingers through the golden hair with the texture of silk.

She stopped suddenly and he almost walked straight into her. John was home, and Kayo was latched onto his arm, it was a scene that put Gordon on the defensive. What was he doing here? he had said nothing. Honestly, the last time he had spoken to his brother it had ended in rather unkind words, not that the others knew but if he could have Gordon would have walked to Five and laid his 'dearest' sibling out, still, john was smiling and Kayo was there so he politely welcomed him home.

Kayo and penny excused themselves leaving the brothers, he wanted to leave, to follow Penny but John seemed like he had something to say. his whole mannerism had _something_ about it, there was something he needed to say or do but didn't know how. So Gordon asked the only thing he could think of, what he assumed was the entire reason John was willing to put up with gravity. was he going to see Scott and Virgil?

The reply was short and sweet and said so much more than it was meant to, there was something else but he didn't want to seem to say what, he was still keeping secrets. Gordon sighed and pushed past. Informing him that their siblings were not in the mood for visitors recently so he shouldn't be annoyed if he could the cold shoulder. Silently adding that if he did he damn well deserved it as he went in search of Penny and her ability to make him forget everything else with that smile.


	28. Mistakes

Alan didn't want to be here, but he had left his den in search of something to drink and was swiftly pounced on by his Grandmother. He needed to see his brothers, he had been putting it off too long apparently and now he was going to be dragged to see them come hell or high water. The upside was that John was here, he wasn't sure he had ever been so happy to see his brother and on setting eyes on him had almost bowled him over. John laughed and hugged him, quietly asking if he was okay. No he wasn't, he wasn't sure he'd ever be okay, but he nodded for now. John smiled, he knew he was lying but he knew he would found out later, when they were away from the prying eyes. He asked if he was coming to the hospital with him, and Alan caved. He would, for john.

It was as Alan remembered that first day, hours after the explosion and screaming and blood. He felt sick and hot and clung to john as their shoes clattered loudly on the hard floor, rolling down the corridor like thunder. He was in that field with the mud and rain and screaming and— he jumped as John placed his hands on his the concern in his eyes. Alan couldn't do it, he couldn't face them he tried to pull away to escape but john's grip was like a vice and he pulled him out of the main way and to the side before dragging him closer, wrapping arms around him and cocooning him from the world, and Alan cracked. He had to tell someone and if he couldn't tell john who could he tell.

So he told him everything. It was his fault, he hadn't meant to but it was his fault and he should have listened but he didn't and now they were here and he was sorry.

So, so sorry.


	29. Distractions

He was tired. He was always tired at the moment, though he assumed it was thanks to the rather ridiculous number of drugs floating about his system. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he also didn't want to leave Scott alone.

Every time he went quiet for more than a few moments, the elder would panic a little, asking if he was still there; even with his fingers wrapped into his shirt, he needed to hear him apparently. So they sat and played word games, silly little things that neither had thought about since they were children. Out of habit, they had started with 'I Spy', but that had ended before it began and left Virgil laughing in pain with Scott's first line of 'I spy with my little eye... nothing at all.' The joke, while a little morbid, had worked wonders, the laughter setting his monitor off, and they had to explain to a rather panicked nurse he was fine. Instead, they had settled on 'On my Next Picnic' so now he was left desperately trying to recall what came after eggs—French fries, maybe? All while Scott purposefully tried to find a way to set his monitor off again, as it amused him apparently.

He was happy, though, with this at least. He was glad to hear Scott laugh, and he was willing to fight against the exhaustion that clouded his thoughts if it kept his brother's mind off himself, even if it meant shots of pain as he couldn't help but laugh because the ass had decided to make a terrible joke. It also kept his mind off his own problems, like that he was genuinely struggling to hear anything. Even that horrid ringing was fading.


	30. Fears

Scott did feel bad for keeping his brother awake. Virgil was tired and needed to sleep but he was genuinely afraid of being left alone with this nothingness.

So now they were playing bad word games and laughing around the fear of their own discoveries; Virgil's hearing was failing and his own memory was shot. Still the games where a pleasant distraction, and he was having more fun then he'd like to admit setting Virgil's monitors off.

He was toying with his nightshirt; a rough scratchy material much like his own, feeling the deep melodic laughter ripple through his chest and the muscle tighten as it caused a small twinge of pain, grinning as he was swiftly called something unrepeatable.

The door clattered open and he had to nudge Virgil, heart sinking as he realised he hadn't heard the door.

'Oh, John' he said, for his benefit he knew, but he sounded genuinely happy to announce Alan was there too.

Scott didn't need his eyes to pick up on the stiff mannerisms the tones gave away. The relief was too forced. The convocations from then on where awkward and forced, and Scott wanted to tell them to go away. It was easier when it was just them, they could pretend to forget what was wrong, then didn't ask each other how they where, they didn't ask for details, because they knew. They where broken and shattered, so they played their games and they forgot. Eventually a nurse came in, told them visiting was over and Scott had to go back to his own room. Scott had to sit in that darkness and silence in his own, adrift and lost. The other left and he clung to Virgil for a moment longer before she insisted.

'I'll see you tomorrow, okay?' Virgil said in soft tones that promised safety, scott didn't need his eyes to see the soft smile that came with the words.

Tomorrow couldn't come round soon enough.


	31. Guilt

He had done this. John had done his best but Alan knew better. When someone felt guilty you told them it wasn't their fault, it was just how things had played out or a coincidence. He had been on enough rescues, he had used that line himself enough times on people who felt they had caused an accident; difference was he wasn't some naive little rescuee who didn't know better. He was a rescuer who knew exactly what he had done, and what he had done had resulted in this. He had crippled his brothers. He had done this because he couldn't listen, because he was a child, and childishness had resulted in this.

His brothers where small. The heroes of International rescue, his heroes. The men that had raised him and shaped him, who he had looked up to his entire life sat here, small and broken. Like a shattered mirror, you could piece it back together, glue it so it worked, but it won't be the same and it won't work the same.

Scott is trapped, blind and confined. The man who thrived on freedom locked in place, clinging to his brother, fingers wrapped in the coarse material of the shirt and living in fear. Of what Alan didn't know but it oozed from Scott and he was worried it would suffocate him.

Virgil seemed immune to this fear though, as he looked drained and absent, he was hard to believe it the was the same man to be honest, and the way he stretched his right arm, the motion Alan had seen several times over in his life made him feel sick. He rolled the shoulder stretched it out the muscle taught under the skin, curling down to his elbow where it stopped in a mass of padding and bandages, the motion should have been mirrored but instead the small amount that remained of is left arm was instead strapped this his torso. Driving home this was his fault.

He had done this.

The nurse arrived eventually and told them to leave. Alan had to make a physical effort not to run out that door. To run and never come back.


	32. Suspicions

John had always been tricky to get a handle on, for him at least, anyway. Scott and Virgil seem to have a handle on him, on all of them. They were all fairly open to the eldest pair and it wasn't that surprising when he actually thought about it. They had spent a large chuck of their teens looking after the three of them, and Gordon knows he should be thankful that the two of them never decided to just leave him somewhere and never come back; he was not the easiest of children to look after.

This wasn't what he was trying to stress to Penny, though—what he needed to get across to her and what he needed her to understand was that John was setting off alarm bells for him.

The lanky ginger could be cryptic and secretive, sure, but he was never openly evasive, never to the point of rudeness. Now, though, he was being just that and kinda weird on top of it all, but Gordon couldn't put his finger on what it was he was up to. John just wasn't right and the more Gordon spoke to him, the more he was convinced John was up to something.

Penny didn't seem convinced and while she didn't openly shoot his concerns down, he suspected that was due to her manners; instead, she pointed out that none of them were really themselves right now. He knew better, though, and a gut feeling told him things were going to get far worse before he got answers. He just hoped it wouldn't be as bad as he suspected.


	33. Doubt

Gordon was practically climbing the walls and she honestly didn't know what to do. She was friends with all the Tracys and she agreed John was most certainly not himself, but she didn't think his recent show of out of character-ness was quite as bad as Gordon seemed to think. Then again, as he rather rudely pointed out, she didn't know him as well as he did, and it was, as far as it went, true. She didn't, but frankly John was always a little odd. The man was faceted and could easily change on you with no visible indication.

In the end, Gordon had stormed off and she had sought out Parker; the man was as good at reading people as John, and his insight was much-needed right then. He was in the kitchen with Mrs. Tracy, the two of them quietly talking. She felt rather rude interrupting, but if she didn't the two would talk all day and she really needed to work this out—the more she mulled it over in her mind, the more she found herself leaning towards Gordon's fears.

Quietly clearing her throat and muddling through the required small talk, she fielded her information and pitched her question: was Gordon right about John?

Mrs. Tracy confirmed that John was being strange, stranger than normal, certainty, but she wouldn't have said he was acting in a way that would warrant a response such as that. The boy was apparently tired, they all were. This incident had thrown the boys off; using Gordon's own behaviour as an example, this near paranoia wasn't exactly standard. Parker, on the other hand, took the more cautious route, not wanting to offend the matriarch, but pointed out that as a rule going Master Gordon was a good read of characters and situations. If he said there was a reason to keep an eye on the normally space-bound man, perhaps there were grounds to.


	34. Concerns

Parker did enjoy Ruth's company. The woman was down to earth and, like him, from a life that had once been far simpler. Now the two stood in a maze of technology and hidden battlegrounds. It was fun in many ways, both could agree—it added an edge of excitement the two thought they would have long ago lost, and it kept them young while at the same time aging them hideously. When it came down to it, neither would trade this life for the world, though Ruth was the first to admit that at moments like this, she was more than willing to leave it all behind and try a far more bland way of life—that, and she's would probably still have her oaken brown locks. She'd been so proud of them when she was young.

Parker didn't really have anything to say but the same old niceties. The boys were strong and resilient and while they had been shaken by this, badly, they would pull through because they had her. Yes, they had snapped at her, but that wasn't her fault—they were understandably scared and probably confused, not to mention recovering from very bruised prides. Once they had found their footing again, and themselves, they would apologise, probably to the point she would get sick of it, because they were gentlemen, and a gentleman never forgets when he has wronged someone.

The soft and polite coughing announced her Ladyship's arrival, the young mistress clearly having something weighing her down, and it was no surprise to anyone when that weight turned out to be a certain young sir. What was a bit of a surprise was that the young man in question apparently didn't trust his brother a far as he could throw his 'bird, but as she laid out the evidence she had been given, things became clear. Mrs. Tracy was biased but Parker saw the pieces. He would talk to her Ladyship properly later, but he certainly agreed with Gordon.


	35. Loyalties

Gordon and John had been almost hostile towards each other since the elder returned, and while she could understand it, Gordon was convinced John was hiding something, given his attitude of late, but it still seemed a little much. Gordon was pushing and picking for something, this supposed secret plan John had or something—at least, that was what she'd been able to pick up from the argument before it descended into a fight, which she had had to break up. John, while perfectly capable of holding his own in a fight against most, never really stood much of a chance against his brothers, who were better trained, stronger and had the advantage of being used to gravity. On top of that, Gordon, like Scott, had the advantage of military training, so John was left with a black eye and swollen lip to which Kayo was currently playing nurse for.

He sucked in a breath as she dabbed at the split lip, apologising softly. Exactly what had caused the fight she had stumbled upon, she had no idea, but to result in blood she very much doubted John was Innocent. They were brothers, they fought sometimes, and always would, but it never went this far unless there was something serious at the root, and while Gordon could be volatile, he would always pick burning the anger off in the water over hitting someone. She had pulled them apart, almost receiving an accidental elbow to the face in the process, pointing out that this was the last thing their grandmother needed right then. Gordon muttered something she missed, while John, instantly defensive, accused him of the being the cause of the whole thing. A still-riled Gordon bit at the accusation, there was shouting she couldn't quite follow, and a second round almost started right there and then.

By no small miracle, she managed to talk them down and Gordon stormed off, fuming, presumably for the pool, and she dragged John away to clean up and while she had tried to work out what started the whole thing, he refused to say exactly. Eventually he pushed her hands away, running a hand through his hair and announcing he was going to change and then see his brothers. When she questioned if this was the right thing to do, he looked at her, smiling sadly. 'I've run out of time,' he said, and walked away.


	36. Silence

He sat and glared out the window. His hearing had officially given out and now he was sat here not even able to tear at his ears. He would find himself humming, as he was want to when nervous, and he knows how it should sound—he had played, sung or even composed them in a few cases—but he can't hear it and it aches, it is like having his heart ripped out and crushed in front of him and he can't do anything about it.

He can't hear a thing. Not even his own breathing. There is a small part of him that wishes he had just died when that engine blew, because it would be easier and kinder than this broken existence.

Trapped in world of silence, not even a deafening silence that crushes, just empty nothingness. Blank lines on all sides that move in and trap him. He wants to reach out and crush them, to tear it all down and scream. Just scream and scream until the universe stops this sick joke, but he can't, in any sense, and the screaming would do nothing but rile Scott and that just doesn't seem fair. None of this is fair.

What he wouldn't give to swap places with his brother, though.

He could live without his sight. He would never have thought of saying that before now, but he honestly could. He wouldn't be able to draw, to paint, or watch the sun turn those waves into that beautiful golden mirror, but he could still listen, he could still paint that image in his mind's eye. Because honestly, what is the point of being able to see if you lose those rough edges that are painted by the sounds? Like the evening breeze catching on the palm trees, causing them to almost whistle and knock against each other? Or hearing the sand slip over itself as the wind chases the grains into the sea? The splashing of feet and laughter as Gordon throws Alan into it?

And really, what is the point of breathing without sound?


	37. Lucidity

This felt wrong, but at the same time so very right, and honestly he couldn't wait. He was so close to waking up now, he could almost taste it. It was an odd feeling, looking down on someone so truly helpless, and knowing you had complete control over the situation—you were literally playing God with their life. The only thing that was stopping him flooding his 'brother's' system with adrenaline right then was a tiny voice in the back of his mind that asked 'what if I'm not sleeping? What if this is the real world?' but how could it be?

Everything they did, had done, had been through, it was ridiculous. This entire situation stood as evidence that he needed to get out. His brothers had stood in front of what had in essence been a bomb, and lived when they very much shouldn't have. This wasn't just some insane sense of luck, this was just wrong. They should be dead. No, he was dreaming and Virgil was his exit. It could be either of them, really, but Virgil was the safer bet. John had been meticulous: he had visited a few times now, working out the placement of cameras and staff timings. He had also carefully questioned his brothers on how they felt, and once he had confirmation that his brother's hearing had officially failed he was the only real choice. Between that and the drugs that kept him half asleep, there was no way he would be woken up by his 'loving' brother popping by.

So here he stood, the full syringe in hand, so close to freedom. After a moment he decapped the syringe and placed it into the access lock for medicine, smiling at his brother as he pushed down on the cap, watching the clear liquid be pushed out and into him.

'Thank you, Virg.' Once it was empty, he stuffed the cap back on and shoved the syringe into his pocket, watching as the drug hit his system.

For a moment, a painfully long moment for John, nothing happened. He sighed in relief though once Virgil's heart rate spike, blood pressure rising as alarms rang out in painful pitches and muscles spasms wracked his body. He stepped back, grinning, smothering the smile as the door was shoved open and a storm of doctors and nurses rushed in, shuffling him out with promises that he would be fine.

He watched through the blinds as the people called out words and numbers, panicking and busy, and John felt that smile rising as the cry of 'sudden cardiac arrest' caught his ears.

He let out a content sigh and awaited the confirmation of his brother's death.


	38. Alone

'Sorry, Mister Tracy.' The words rattled around his head—they had been genuine, filled with warmth and regret, and it wasn't her fault, he knew. She had tried, but Scott was hurt and angry. Once it had sunk in and he had processed it, she had apologised. He hadn't meant the words, what he had said, he was so sorry. She understood she didn't hold it against him—still, though, he would have to find a real way to show how much he regretted the outburst. It had just been a shock, and it hurt. He didn't know how he would tell Virgil; they had been praying for good news, hoping the damage wouldn't be permanent, but it was.

Scott was officially blind.

She had spoken about options and other things, but he hadn't been listening. 'Blind'—that was all he had heard.

Blind and paralysed, and not even paralysed for a sensible reason—they could find no reason for it. Apparently it wasn't unheard of and they had started talking at him, but Scott didn't care at the time, and he hadn't cared enough since to ask again. He didn't care about anything.

He didn't even want to find Virgil right then, he just wanted to curl up and stop. Just stop everything, stop breathing and thinking and everything. He sighed, running his hands through his hair as the woman pushing him back to his room continued to natter away like a fly bouncing off a window. He was thankful for the pause when there were shouts and a sudden burst of movement shot past, cries of panic and codes he didn't understand. It faded just as quickly as it had begun but the woman didn't start up again—small mercies, he mused. Though he felt sorry for the poor sod they were rushing to.

Scott was pulled from his musings as the nurse pushing him along asked what room his brother was in. Without thinking, he answered with a shrug.

'Two, three room down from me?' As the last two words escaped his mouth, he paused, finally picking up on the worry tinting her words, and it was with no small amount of fear he asked why.

'Because there is an awful lot going on there.' Scott felt his heart twist and chest tighten as he heard John's panicked tones.

'Scott!' Perhaps if Scott's mind wasn't already reeling off a list of possibilities and screaming at him, he would have picked up on the tone, too forced, too hurt. 'There you are! Scott, it's Virg... he...' Words were lost and Scott couldn't breathe. His world crumbled as in that single instant, in those five tiny words, Scott is alone. Wholly alone in this new world.

'Virgil is.. Hes dead Scott.'


	39. Regret

Alan was curled up, resting his head on Gordon's lap, face buried in the elder's stomach and fingers holding onto him. Gordon thought he had been crying because of Virgil, and in part that was true, but it wasn't the entire reason he had run out of tears.

He had now officially killed his brother. Yes, Virgil was still alive, but he had been dead technically for a few moments as far as he knew, and a few seconds was too long. Their Grandma had picked up the call, one of the doctors at the hospital informing them what had happened and the current situation. He didn't know the details—he had left before he could find out because he didn't need to know. It was his fault. This whole thing was his fault.

He had killed his brother.

He pulled at Gordon, burying his face in his borther's shirt. He was wrong, apparently: he could still cry. Gordon pulled his legs up, rolling Alan into him, sliding an arm under his head, resting the other on his own knee, making a tiny fort with his own body, shielding him from the world, waiting until the tears abated before asking him softly what was wrong.

Gordon was annoying, he had a way of prising things from him, no matter what it was and how little he wanted to say it. That this was no different—Alan refused, but Gordon sat and waited. It was that annoying silence and patience, it was the unspoken promise that Gordon would listen, he would listen and understand no matter what—that was what had Alan blurting out what he had done amid the tears and wails, burying his head in Gordon's shirt, fearful that this would be the one time Gordon didn't understand.

He had, after all, killed their brothers, literally and in spirit.


	40. Helpless

It wasn't often, if ever, that Gordon had that kick the other talked about—'the older sibling' drive, that need to protect and shelter and fix. He was the second youngest, he only had Alan below him, and the others tended to bundle them together, so Alan looked to the others, Scott and John in particular, while Gordon tended to turn to Scott and Virgil. He and Alan would joke about sharing Scott. Moments like this, though, when for whatever reason Alan was lost and had no one to turn to, that drive would kick in and he could understand his brothers so much easier. This time something else was causing this to kick in, though.

The hospital had called—Virgil was in critical condition. He didn't understand a lot of it, if he was honest—a sudden adrenaline surge had caused his body to swing into overdrive, which, in turn, had caused a whole slew of problems. What he had understood, and was thankful Alan had missed, was the fear that Virgil had been purposefully poisoned.

Someone had attempted to murder his brother.

Alan was currently curled up against him, using him as a pillow. He hadn't wanted to but Gordon had given him little choice, pulling his brother into the contact he needed whether he knew it or not. He had been crying on and off since the call and Gordon's shorts were horribly damp, but it seemed he had finally run out of tears, and as he was beginning to drift off, Alan stirred, the familiar sniff and gentle tugging as he tried to bury himself away from the world, and Gordon was more than willing to oblige, pulling his legs up and nudging his brother into him, wrapping his arms about him and shielding him away from the world that seemed out to hurt them.

These tears weren't just about what had happened. He sighed, resting his head against his arm, and looked down at his brother. 'What's wrong, Ali? Talk to me.' It was hard to keep the desperate edge from his voice, but he hoped he had managed it, watching and waiting at his brother turned the words over in his head.

'I did it.' The words small and muffled but unmistakable, and honestly not what he had expected to hear.

'Did what?' Alan sniffed and after a long wait blurted it out.

'I did it, I killed them, it was me, I didn't mean to, I didn't!' He couldn't stop now, he was just a flurry of words and tears and regrets.

They had told him not to touch it, but it was old, really old, and he hadn't seen anything like it before. Virgil was worried it was unstable, given how fragile age would have made it, and Scott just didn't like the look of the prehistoric pile of trash, but Alan was curious. He scrubbed at the grim, trying to find some identification on the thing—honestly, he wasn't even sure what it was, some kind of unmanned aerial vehicle he figured. He leaned against it and the thing groaned, sounding almost demented, and he leapt away, checking for his siblings. They didn't know, so he had pretended nothing had happened.

It was him, he had upset the thing, he had dislodged whatever had kept it stable.

He had killed them.

Gordon pulled Alan close, wrapping his arms around him and holding on tight as his brother spilt his heart. He had been crushing himself over this and Gordon knew there was nothing he could say that would make a difference.

Especially if Virgil didn't make it.


	41. Refraction

In many ways, Virgil and John were the same, almost identical in the way they thought, viewing the world as schematics, cold and analytical, but there was one key difference—Virgil lived to build and shape while John lived to dismantle and destroy.

The differences were small things, but small things build over time and become big things. Time does so like to change things. Both will take something apart for curiously, the need to see how it works, to put it back together shifted and changed, but Virgil will draw the line at people, at altering the functions. John's line is blurred, faded, kept only in place by his brothers.

She runs her fingers through Virgil's near-black locks, too dark for his completion. He is small and fragile and she wants to wrap him up, to protect him and lock him away.

Someone has tried to kill him, tried to hurt him. To rip the heart from her family, and they had come so close to succeeding.

If not for his stubborn streak, she doubted he would be here, but his is. With that heartbeat so slow and laboured, but constant in its rhythm, much like his breathing. Like the machines he loves, he lives on patterns, the constant ticking of the clockwork.

John paces outside, marching up and down, caught in loops and lost in thought but he can't bring himself to be confined by the room. John needs space, he needs to be able to stretch, he needs to be doing something, always something.

It's one of the few things the two share with all their brothers: that inability to just stay still, to stop and listen. It's that stillness that haunts her now. Virgil and Scott can't or won't move, but the weight of the situation reaches out, ensnaring the others, pulling them down and locking them all in place.

She needs to be strong, she needs to keep moving, for them, so she sat here and prayed while John paced outside, the agitation and anger clear in his posture.


	42. Rive

Kayo wasn't one prone to panic, or fear, but as she ran to the hospital toilets, slamming the door shut behind her, she could honestly say she felt both, and would hopefully never feel them like this again; helpless.

She had looked at John as she asked what had happened. He had answered—three simple little words and a look of disgust. It was that which had caused her to flee. Had her hiding.

'He. Didn't. Die.' The hate had dripped from every word. He turned to her, looking at her with eyes that weren't his own, that were barely human. The once blue-green eyes that shifted in the light and sparkled with comparison were gone, leaving a deep dark turquoise that threatened to smother her. The shadowing that caught his features, making them harsh and ominous and deadly. It was just the evening light and his height compared to her own that caused it, she knew that, but in that moment, with his words, it hit her like a punch to the gut.

'You…?' She stumbled back, unable to breathe as the thoughts took hold, forming unwelcome shapes. 'You?!'

The malice and hate were gone as surprise softened those harsh lines, chasing away those demons. He reached out for her and instinct kicked in—she moved away from the danger that now stood before her, wearing the face of the man she had loved. She turned and ran, fled and hid. And now she stood before the mirror in this tiny cubicle, sobbing as he stood outside, knocking on the door, begging her to open it, to let him explain. It was a mistake, he hadn't meant it like that if she would just open the door…

He sounded small and regretful, and she so wanted to believe him, to open the door and let him explain everything away. She was so tempted, but she knew now, and nothing would change that. She should have seen it sooner, really, his attitude since they had arrived, the fact that when the whole thing happened it had just been him and Virgil in that room—the nurses and even he admitted it, but when they announced that it looked promising that Virgil would live, rather than being happy, relieved, his mood had darkened, then she had asked, and he had said that, and now she was scared.

She knew.

What would he do now that she knew? Oh god, was he going to kill her? What else could he do?

 _She knew._

She ignored him banging on the door, demanding she open it, and instead did her best to compose herself to steady her hands as she made the call, begging Penny to pick up.


	43. An Inspector Calls

Penny sat in the sun room, feet up, reading. Her guilty pleasure was awfully cheesy crime thrillers, where the little old lady with no connection to anything comes along and solves everything while ruining evidence and making amazing leaps that no one would actually follow. It was stupid and silly and she loved it.

Her bag buzzed and it was with a fair amount of annoyance she answered. Really, was one or two days so much to ask for? Without taking her eyes off the book, she reached into the bag and snapped open the small compact, answering it her usual smile and tone before looking at the caller: one rather panicked and shaken Miss Kyrano.

She put down the book, the terrible contents forgotten as she sat up, concern causing those near-perfect features to frown. Before she could even ask what was wrong, Kayo was crying again. It was John, John had done it and at first Penny didn't understand—John had done what? Honestly, what could he do that would make the woman who had spent far too long admiring him from a distance sob like this? But before she could ask for clarification, the small, blue woman pulled in a ragged breath and looked at Penny with heartbroken eyes.

He had tried to kill Virgil and now she was scared he would try to kill her, because she knew and now she was trapped and she needed help. To be saved.

Penny's mind reeled. John had…?

Well, in terms of the situation it made sense. It had only been them alone in the room, and the reason for the sudden surge had baffled the staff, but, John, really? They were siblings, they had never even been in a fist fight, not as far as she knew, anyway. The two weren't the most volatile of the lot.

It was John...?

Why on earth would he do this, what kind of motive would push someone to kill their brother?

They needed a plan and for that Penny needed to know everything, quickly. Just as quickly as she could find Parker.


	44. To War

Parker had long ago learnt that when brisk tones and short instructions were given, he should keep his head down and question nothing.

'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Part of him believed the words were written for her Ladyship—the charming demeanour and sweet smiles were deadly when the woman marched to war, much like she was now.

Question was, against whom did they march?

Her likeness to the quote was only reinforced when her Ladyship asked if he had his gun. Well, of course he did, his was a bodyguard first, chauffeur and friend second. He glanced into the rear view mirror and watched as she sighed, securing the handgun within its holster, before sliding it into her handbag. She looked so young right then, weighted down by what was about to come. The young woman was a child, one he had long ago adopted as his own in many ways. She sighed again and raised her eyes to the view that hurtled by the car, sitting up straight and once again she was the woman that bought fear to the hearts of those that angered her. '"Someone," she started, and it was clear she knew exactly who this someone was, 'has attempted to kill Virgil'—and just like that, his stomach hit the floor and where he not quite so practised at controlling his expressions and emotions, he would have hit the brakes on reflex as his thoughts turned to poor Ruth—'and could still be successful, as his current stability is less then secure.' Well, he mused, that explained their destination—it was all he had been given in the rush to leave. 'We're to visit the Tracys,' and that had been that. He hadn't questioned it, as it was not his place, but now, now he needed to know.

'Do we know who, m'lady?'

'John.'

'John?'

'John did it, he tried to kill Virgil and now there is a very strong chance he is going to try and go for Kayo or Scott, possibly both. So, we're going to take him for a little "talk".'

He wasn't sure how to feel—any other person and he would be more than willing to "talk" to them, but someone he knew, someone he would more than proudly call family? He wasn't sure, but then again if it was truly him that had done this, then was it really John? His mind stretched back to Ruth…

'Gladly, m'lady.'


	45. Betrayal

It is a funny thing to sit alone in a room of people but feel so completely isolated. To be surrounded by friends and family but feel so completely abandoned.

Scott can only sit here, surrounded by supposedly loving talk that sounds to him like nothing but white noise while he chews his fingers down to the bone, cursing his brother for this.

How could he? How could Virgil try and leave him?

It was an unfair thought, he knew, unfounded and purely built on his own darkening mood, but that clawing darkness demanded to know why. Why would his brother do this to him?

It's unfair. It's all so unfair.

He wants to go to bed. He is tired of this, all of this breathing and thinking and remembering. It's too much.

He goes to bed these days and dreams of flying his 'bird, being about to see. There Virgil will be laughing and playing the piano and everyone is happy. None of this has happened. He wonders if Virgil has the same dreams. Perhaps that is why he tried to stay asleep, and Scott begins to think that perhaps his brother has the right idea, just go to sleep and try your best not to wake up again.

He can hear his grandmother crying, and he knows he should want to comfort her, to wrap her in a hug and tell her that Virg'll be okay because he always is, but Scott doesn't want to. He wants her to go away and leave him alone so he can think. So he can demand to know why Virgil is doing this to him.

They promised. They promised each other they would stay together, that they would work through this together, and instead he is alone.

He digs his fingertips into the arm of his chair, biting his tongue to stop himself from screaming at the top of his lungs, _'How is this fair Virgil?!'_


	46. Hoax

The door creaked open and Kayo stood there, almost venerable, and John's heart cracked. He hadn't wanted this. He had never intended this. This world could crumble but even here he never wanted her to be hurt.

'Kayo.' He stepped forward to hold her, to wrap his arms around and apologise, but she flinched away. She was afraid of him. A small pang skittered across the back of his mind and it took everything to hold onto his resolve. 'Kayo, please.' He held out his hand, willing her to take it. 'I was angry and... frightened. I didn't mean it like it came out. Let me explain?' he pleaded, trying his best to sound small and regretful. 'Please?'

She peered at his hand, looking at it like it was about to grow teeth and bite her arm off, but after a moment, a moment that stretched out forever to him, she took it. Careful movements. He smiled, the sigh of relief genuine and taking him by surprise as he wrapped his arms around her, never wanting to let go.

'You.' She sniffed, pulling back and wiping her eyes. 'You made it sound like you killed him.'

'What?' He forced a smile, one he hoped was nervous and surprised. 'You think, thought I would…?' He swallowed; he had to make sure he was doing this right, not overacting but at the same time not under. He had a sudden newfound respect for how easily Alan and Gordon could lie, the false words just rolling off their tongues. 'My own brother?' She looked up at him, those golden eyes smudged by green, full of suspicion and uncertainty.

'Kayo, please, why would I do that?' he snapped, frustrated and angry at her and himself and this whole damned situation. 'Why?' She flinched at his tone, pulling away from him when he reached for her again, having realised his own mistake. 'I'm sorry, just...' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'My own brother, really?'

She sidestepped him, never looking up. 'We should get back to you grandmother.' He didn't know if she believed him or not, but either way she would find out, she was like a dog with a bone, and he was going to have to decide how much she meant to him.

Was she worth the risk?


	47. Hunter

Brains found Gordon pacing in the kitchen, aggressively eating a banana, like it had accused him of cheating his way into WASP. Stress etched his every feature, so it was with some reluctance with he approached.

Every scrap of information he managed to get had been after a fight, the explosion and their situation, and now he suspected something else had occurred. The question was what?

'Virgil almost died and Alan is convinced it was him,' the young blond snapped, taking a chunk out of the banana, teeth clacking audibly. 'Expect'—Gordon threw the peel at the bin, spinning on the little scientist—'Penny just called. It wasn't Alan, obviously, it was attempted murder, so we can add that to this shit storm! Yay,' he sneered, leaning against the counter, palms flat and elbows locked, almost growling as he pulled in air through his nose. Like this he reminded Brains of a predator, felines in particular. Hackles raised and fur bristling: a warning to the world that he was not happy and if tested would fight. A fight that he was would win despite his size. He would win.

Brains crept forward carefully, mindful of the minefield before him, but he needed to know; this was his family, and he had a right to know what was going on, though it quickly became apparent that Gordon needed to talk, or at least burn off as much of the aggressive energy as he could, as any questions were willingly answered in detail while he paced, picking up another banana and eating it. The more Brains had learnt, the more he understood the anger and aggression, but there was also a worry that pricked the back of his mind.

Adrenaline storms were not the nicest way to go but easy to make happen. What worried him, though, was the missing vial he had noticed missing. Without thinking, he told Gordon of the odd coincidence, and found himself on the receiving end of a sudden barrage of questions. Brains had been conducting inventory for the medical ward on the island. They didn't kept anything overly potent—things that required that generally needed a hospital, not the small the few rooms here—but the small bottle of adrenaline was missing. He had thought it strange and a little worrying but nothing more. Things were often misplaced, and he had assumed it would turn up again, as he knew the bottles hadn't been used.

Gordon stalked round the counter, and Brains was actually afraid of the man.

'Who was the last person in the lab with you? Before you noticed it was gone.' That feline edge was back as he ran his fingers along the blackened marble top.

'Uhh, J-John,' he stuttered, and Gordon screamed. Screamed like a man possessed as he launched the fruit bowl across the room.


	48. Monsters

To say Alan was afraid was to say Pompeii had had a small volcano problem. True, yes, but a fairly large understatement.

Gordon always had a dark side, an angry and vengeful streak that turned him into a near monster, and it was that monster Alan was stuck with on the too-small plane. Something had happened, something that had turned his brother into that darkness, and part of him suspected it was him, but a bigger part, a more rational part knew that if it had been him, he would not be sitting here with him.

Every now and then he would risk a glance at him, the fingers locked about the yoke and arms ridged, muscles tight, and that fear would roll about his stomach and he would have to look away.

He could hear Brains muttering to himself, likely going through some overly complex numerical tables in a futile attempt to calm himself. Alan was torn. He wanted answers and he wanted to make sure Gordon was okay, but he also wanted to hide, to escape.

'Gordon, what… what happened?' The amount of effort those words took was hands shook and he could only look at him from the corner of his eyes, watching as his jaw worked, teeth clenched as he swallowed hard. He took a breath and sat himself up straight.

'We're going to visit Virgil.'

That was it, and Alan knew that was a lie.

The rest of the plane ride and then the short car journey from the airport to the hospital was awkward and stilted, while barely contained fury oozed from Gordon the entire two and a half hours. The closer they got to the hospital, the more agitated Gordon got. Pulling up outside the front of the building, he shoved open the door, slamming it behind him, taking the steps two at a time and barrelling through the throngs that milled about the corridors while Alan and Brains struggling to keep up. He rounded the corner and his eyes locked onto John. He growled and sprinted forward, ramming into the elder; the two fell to the floor, and Alan froze while Gordon went for blood.

'You fucking bastard!' he screamed, slamming his fist into John's face. The normally space-bound Tracy had little chance against the former Olympian. Bone crunched and John gasped around the now-broken nose, desperately trying to protect his face while Gordon screamed at him. 'You stupid fucking bastard!'


	49. Demons

There was a sudden explosion beyond the oppressively quiet room. Painfully familiar voice yelled and cursed. It was with some apprehension she walked to the door, horribly suspicious that she already knew what lay beyond.

Gordon sat upon John, screaming and shouting, laying into his brother. The rapid succession of hits aimed at his face and shoulders left the ginger with little to do other than attempt to protect himself. The previous black eye and bruised lip were being quickly added to as blood tracked down from the probably broken nose.

'Enough!' she bellowed. 'Gordon Cooper Tracy, get up and explain.'

At first he didn't seem to hear her, and she had to step forward, tugging on the man's neon shirt, physically pulling him away from John, but she didn't have to speak again as he screamed, tears in eyes and pointing with blooded knuckles.

'That fucking bastard killed Virgil!'

Another time, another place, she would have scolded him for the language, for the fight, but the words gave her pause.

'What?'

'He killed Virgil. He took the adrenaline from the medbay and killed our brother!'

No... That wasn't right, that couldn't be right. She turned and looked to the middle child, and her heart sank as she laid eyes on the man that stood there. She didn't know what to believe, not really; perhaps she refused to accept what was in front of her, but the anger that bristled from John was wrong.

It wasn't regret for his actions, or remorse of realisation, or even the justified anger of having have Gordon lay into him. It was fury at having been discovered before he was ready, that his plan had been uncovered too soon.

Ruth held onto Gordon, not for fear of him flying off again, but for fear she'd collapse, much like everything she knew, or thought she knew.

'It wasn't meant to happen like this.'He wiped the blood from his face and cradled his damaged nose.

'But it was supposed to happen?' Gordon barked.

John sneered, lip curling back as he eyed the smaller man.

'Yes.'

And Gordon was off again, and Ruth didn't much care.


	50. Crossfire

Kayo's heart almost stops as he says it.

'Yes'

the word rolled off his tongue like it was nothing, simple fact. Gordon shook off his grandmother off and slammed into his brother once again, they didn't fall this time, John was prepared. This was a fight, an actual fight, not just Gordon punching him. This was going to end badly and she should stop them, she should step in and stop them because no one else wants to, but.. She doesn't.

She watches, making an effort to pull her eyes from them to look at their Grandmother, Ruth is shaking, clinging to Brains, the two are talking while Alan stands there, clinging to himself, watching wide eyed and with horror.

She didn't know he was here. Oh, why was he here?

'Stop it' she jumps forward now, hissing at them 'Not in front of Alan' pulling at John and forcing her way between the men as they snap and snarl like animals.

A nurse storms over, fury written on the tired features.

'This is a hospital, stop this now or leave!' she hisses, looking over the men eyes resting on John a moment 'Stop by downstairs, getting those looked at' she points to his face as he wipes the blood off on his sleeve. 'If I hear or any more fighting your name is not going to stop you getting thrown out. Understand?' she looks between them and John nods sullenly. Momentarily appeased she turns briskly, stopping to speak to their Grandmother.

The two men stand glaring over her head. Gordon leans forward and hisses at a him.

'I swear to god John, if something happens to Virgil, Five is not going to be far enough to save you from me, because I will hunt you down. I will _walk_ to Five'

Kayo looks at Gordon, he is glaring with nothing short of pure, unadulterated anger. John makes something close to a scoff and turned away slowly, looking at Kayo; his cold turquoise locking onto golden-green.

This is it, her final chance to pick her ground; him or them. She wants to follow, to take his hand and listen as she wraps her head around this insanity, but she can't. She can't though, because that isn't John, it can't be.

John, her John, their John wouldn't do this. Whatever had caused this had warped him, twisted and destroyed the man they knew, now a stranger walked away, leaving to turn and stalk them from another angle.

Her place is here, with them, her family, and against him.


	51. Distance

Gordon had only ever really wanted to hurt two people in his life; the boy who had been picking on Alan in school and his Commanding Officer in WASP, now though, he could say it was three; he could add his brother to that list.

He watched as John walked away, the look he threw him as he turned the corner had his blood boiled.

Kayo pulled at his arm, trying to turn him away, softly reminding him about Alan.

She was right, Alan first, slowly beating his brother to death with his own arms later. He sighed, a futile attempt to cool his temper, pulling his eyes from the former location of his sibling he looked at her and something struck him.

She was still here.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding tight, She was still here, she hadn't followed John. She buried her head into the crook of his neck, he felt her shudder and this time he sighed out of defeat, the acceptance of the entire situation as he rested his cheek against her head.

'You'll be okay' he whispered as she pulled away, wiping a stray tear from her face 'I promise' she smiled, small and sad, but it was genuine and she nodded.

She frowned for a second 'Gordon..?'

'Yeah?'

'How do we tell Scott this?'

Gordon cursed under his breath and shrugged, laughing in spite of himself.

'From a distance, might be enough to get him walking again though'

'Gordon!'

'Sorry' he had enough sense to look bashful for a moment and let his eyes drift to the door. 'I've always found the best way to approach a suicide mission is to cut straight to the point and don't show fear'

'Nice to know you're optimistic'

'No, just realistic' he turned and walked to Alan, the teenager latching onto him instantly. He leaned into so only Alan would hear, and though he hated himself for saying it. It needed to be done, 'See, it wasn't your fault' - ' _it was John_ ' the last three words hung in the air unspoken but heavy and Gordon crumpled as he felt him nod against him, through the thin shirt.

If anything happened to Virgil or Alan, Pluto wouldn't be far enough to save John.


	52. Hatred

John.

John did it.

Johnny, the boy that would cry and climb into their beds when there was a storm. That would bore them rigid because he has just learnt something new. The boy with huge blue-green eyes and ginger hair that curled no matter what.

He. Did. it.

Scott felt sick; his blood was boiling and he was shaking and he wanted to wrap his hands around the man's neck and crush. To dig those fingers into the windpipe and feel the cartilage give way as the man, so used to space, clawed at him and Scott enjoyed the fact it was utterly futile.

There was a hole in his stomach, cold and black, and is screamed in fury. He could barely think around it, it and the threat it held of consuming him whole.

The door was pushed open and feet entered, that annoying squeak of Gordon's too-worn shoes and the careful gait of Kayo. He tried to calm himself—he wanted to see if they would tell him. He needed to know they would tell him.

'Hey, Scott.' Gordon was loud and overly cheerful as always, and there was a "whomph" as he presumably fell into a chair.

'Hey, Scott, how are you and Virgil doing?' Kayo asked, tone soft and polite as ever.

'Great, just great. You know, just as broken and near dead as normal,' Scott spat, biting his tongue before he could say anymore, though the awkward silence that followed suggested he had cut himself off a little late.

'So, anything interesting to tell me?'

'Uh.' He could hear Gordon shuffling, could imagine him fidgeting, looking at Kayo as they searched for words, because they were going to tell him, they had to.

'No, not really.' Gordon's tone was awkward and forced.

Scott gritted his teeth and dug his nails into the chair arm, doing his best to keep his tone flat.

'Nothing?'

'Not really.' He sounded more natural now, almost himself. 'Me and John had a disagreement, but, you know.'

'Yeah, I know. You and him were screaming at each other and fighting in the fucking corridor. Yeah, Gordon, I know!'

'Oh,' came a quiet response. Though from who, he wasn't sure, and he didn't care.

'You heard?' Gordon asked, sounding worried, and rightly so. They weren't going to tell him.

'Yes, I heard. I am pretty sure the entire southern hemisphere heard, hell, I'm almost surprised Virgil didn't hear.'

'Scott,' Kayo started. She was going to apologise and try and explain to him. He didn't want it, he was sick of excuses and hollow explanations.

'No. Just, just take Grandma and go home. Okay?' He waited, listening to the nervous silence. 'Okay?!'

'Okay,' came the small response.


	53. Shutdown

It had taken a fair few hours to get here, more then she would have liked, and she dreaded to think of the timing if they hadn't taken if not for FAB1. Alas, due to the lateness of the day they swung by the island, as the mainland hospital would not be taking guests at this hour.

Sadly, though Unsurprisingly, there was a dark heaviness to the island that sat over it like a crushing blanket, weighing on the inhabitants.

Mrs Tracy milled about the kitchen, seeming lost in her thoughts while pretending to be busy. Parker had gone to comfort the older woman and discover what had occurred. Penny had intended to talk to residents, to find out for herself what had happened, figuring Parker wouldn't make it past comforting the woman, but she herself didn't get particularly far in this.

Alan had been rather volatile, only saying a selective few words; just enough to be polite, before growing irritated and not so kindly informing her he didn't want to talk. Brains was locked in his lab, she had stuck her head in but the man barely spoke and seemed to forget she was there within a few moments, having thrown himself wholly into anything he could do to take his mind off the situation. Kayo had been polite, thanking penny for coming but feigned a headache and a need to go lay down in a dark room. She had been crying, Penny could see but decided not to comment, instead simply hugging her longtime friend and offering her an ear should she need it. she thanked her, stating she would be fine after a nap, but that Penny should see Gordon. he had yet to calm down after his 'disagreement' with John. The phrase and tone that had Penny mildly concerned, once she had spoken to the aquanaut she should come find her, she had something to say that might interest the aristocrat.

It didn't take a genius to work out where Gordon would be; happy, sad, angry or anything in between you would find him celebrating or commiserating in the pool, if not the ocean, and he had been that way for as long as she could remember.

She stepped down to the concrete stairs, pausing at the bottom for a moment to admire the man as he cut neat, near perfect lines through the water. On land, he was loud and garish and almost ungainly in many ways, but then you put the man in the water and he changed completely, becoming serene and elegant. He was made for the water, and if he didn't need to she doubted he would ever leave. Picking a lounger she took a seat and waited, not wanting to interrupt.

After a few more laps he paused at the end, finally noticing her and forcing a smile swam over to greet her, he didn't want to though, she could tell. asking how she was, stating that he hadn't been expecting her and wondering what she was doing here. Standard lines that sounded a little forced in some ways and air of distractions and annoyance clung to them.

'John' she reminded him with a sad smile. he looked away, there was a flash of anger that passed over his face but remained in his eyes.

'Oh. Of course' was the simple reply. She waited a moment, but when it became clear that Gordon was musing on something, so she stayed silent, removing her shoes to sit on the pool edge next to him, dipping her feet into the cooled water.

'What happened to your face?' she asked softly, leaning forward to catch his eyes.

'Huh?' he raised a hand to his face, the action trigging his memory and he sighed 'nothing'

'Nothing bruised your cheek?'

He glared at her, all that fury and anger turned on her 'exactly'


	54. Interlude

Penny frowned at him, those beautiful features full of disappointment.

'Don't lie to me Gordon'

'Well don't ask stupid questions then' he snapped, turning to go back to the pool, he wasn't in the mood for the Penelope styled Inquisition. She reached out and caught his shoulder before he could return to swimming laps and loosing himself in the water.

'Gordon, talk to me. please' her tone was soft and full of care. He sighed and he looked back to her. 'Please, I want to help' she smiled and held her hand out to him. He stood in the water thinking before groaning in defeat and pulling himself up onto the edge next to her, running his fingers through the damp hair, slicking it back and out of his face. Penny edged closer, not quite resting against him, but close enough that he could feel the loose sleeves of her soft pastel pink top brush again his arm and he vaguely wondered if she would be wearing that perfume thing he liked; sweet and scented of flowers. A perfume that was so very her.

'So' she turned to him and he watched from the corner of his eye as she looked at him, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear while studying him solidly 'Are you going to tell me what happened to your face?'

he scoffed, making an effort not to looking at her 'when you say it like that, you already know so why bother?'

'because I am fed up of being ignored Gordon, and I had some stupid hope that you would actually talk to me, but clearly not. so forgive my mistake, and I will bid you a good night now seeing as I suspect I won't be seeing anyone else today, let alone talk to them' she snapped, her clean-cut tone made all the worse by that English pronunciation that he had a crippling weakness for. he groaned again, pulling his hands down over his face as she stood, collecting her shoes to marched away.

'Penny, don't' He pushed himself to his feet, taking a few long strides to catch her, silently noting the sudden roles reversal. 'You want to know what happened? You told me what' he paused, struggling to say it; a part of him fearful to actually admit to the whole situation 'what John did. So I went there to talk to him, to ask why. Instead, I saw him, and I..' He stopped again, stumbling over the words. the ability to articulate his feelings right then, and the shame of even having felt them 'I wanted to cave that bastards head in with his own arm, and if not for kayo, i would have and I wish I had' there was that sudden spark of anger and regret 'why did I let her stop me?' He put his hands to his head and wrapped his fingers through the still damp hair as the question screamed at him _'why?'_ 'I should have-'

'No' penny took his hands and gently lowered them down before pulling him close, easing his face to her shoulder. hiding him from the world. 'No, you did the right thing, and you did it because you are better than him' she held him as he wrapped his arms around her, drawing from her never-ending reserve of strength as he breathed in the perfume; she was wearing it and he found himself smiling despite himself. Eventually feeling whole enough to pull back and away. She smiled at him leaning in to brush her soft lips against his in a gesture that completely threw him, turning slowly and began to walk away.

'Now, I am going to bed' she paused mid-stride and glances over her shoulder to him, that sweet smile now a smirk 'care to join me, Corporal Tracy?'


	55. Dawn

Penny was nice enough, she genuinely cared he could tell, but she wasn't here for him. She was here for Gordon and no amount of niceties was going to change that simple and rather annoying fact.

All that niceness wasn't going to change the fact that one sibling had killed another either, so it wasn't him. in fact it was worse, because instead of being some terrible, hideous mistake it had been deliberate, planned. Pre-meditated murder. John had looked him in the eyes, and told him none of this was his fault, and he had meant it because he had known and he was planning, John had told him as he had looked him in the eyes, voice firm and calm

 _'No matter what happens to them, none of it is your fault'_

John had made him promise that he wouldn't blame himself, Alan had assumed he was just trying to reassure him, but now, looking back… he should have done something, should have asked why John was so agitated over the whole thing, why Alan's guilt bothered him so much, and now she stood there, asking if he was okay.

He had brushed her and her stupid questions off until got too much and he left with a few words he now regretted, but she would get over it; the exchange would be forgotten as soon as she found Gordon and now Alan was left with his woes. he had retreated to his room to mull over things, once again hiding under the bed as he thought about that one single question that had been gnawing at him since the fight between John and Gordon, since John had admitted it was him.

Why?

why do this, why tear the family apart. Why not talk to someone.

The thought struck him and for a moment he felt guilty, with everything that had happened he had forgotten about the poor little AI, but if John was likely to mention his plans to anyone, it was her. After struggling out from his hiding hole he opened up the communications to Five and the small little self-arraigning Rubik's cube greeted him with a chirpy hello.

He smiled, genuinely smiled. He Liked Eos.


	56. Jumpstart

John seethed.

Everything was ruined. Why couldn't people just do as they were meant to? Why did they have to intervene, or keep living, why couldn't they just do what they were meant to?

Why couldn't he have just died?

He sighed as the engine finally gave in to him and sat up in the driver's seat. Folding his arms over the top of the steering wheel, he rested his head against them, shutting his eyes and trying to clear his head of the memory that kept coming back to him.

As soon as he had realised the this would be the easiest way to get a car, he was struck with the image of being taught to hot-wire; Scott leaning over him while he sat in the foot-well as Virgil stood watch, he had told them it wouldn't end well, but Scott had scoffed and told him not to worry so much. Inevitably John's prediction had been right and the two had ended up telling him to run home.

He had walked in, intended to sit down and wait for them to roll in. Confident and laughing like nothing had happened. Soon as he had stepped through the door though, his mother came over and his heart had sunk. She was supposed to be out, shopping with their grandmother and failing to keep Gordo and Allie in sight. She had frowned, demanding to know where his brothers were; they were supposed to be watching him. He lied, or tried to; stating he had crept away, having grown bored, a terrible lie as he wasn't that kind of person, but he wasn't going to say anything else, so had fled to his room and waited.

Eventually, the bell had rung, and he went to the top of the stairs, curious as to who it would be. The door had opened and Scott and Virgil stood there with two policemen behind them, all of them looking annoyed.

Their mother had been furious. she had spoken to the policemen, papers were swapped and soon as the door was shut she had questioned them, and for a while John was sure he was going to be down two siblings. She had pulled John in, demanding to know what had happened, they were all together and she knew they had done something. Her sixth sense had been on full. They were lying to her, she knew it but they had flat out refused the fact. Coming up with some long winded thing about how he had run off on them, and then they had been bored and how the policemen had found them trying to hot-wire the car.

John couldn't help but smile at the memory.

Their mother's punishment had been swift, the oldest two had been grounded and for the rest of the day, they had been made to stand in hallway of the house and face the walls.

Scott had grinned at him every time he went past, and Virgil mouthing it was all Scott's fault. Neither cared for their punishment, they were happy with the outcome, though he had never quite understood why, but that was one of the first times that John had really known he could rely on them, they had his back.

That little voice was back. Screaming at him, pointing and shouting. If this was a dream, if none of this was real then how had it all gone so wrong, how had figments caused memories he held so dear? That bit of doubt grew and niggled at him and all he could do was hope he was right. He needed to be right because the idea of even contemplating being wrong made his stomach turn.

He needed to go, get away. He needed to clear his head.


	57. Surfacing

It was like trying to swim with weights tied to your ankles: far too tempting to just sink to the bottom, tired and exhausted from trying, but he is so close to breaking through, there is a safety line just there. He could feel his fingers brush against it.

He grabbed the rope and pulled himself up, through the surface and into a blurry, bright world of whites and pastel blues, with air so sterile it hurt to breathe. He blinked slowly against the intrusive light, scrunching his eyes shut, and tried to raise his hands to shield against it, but he couldn't move them. He was so tired and his limbs so heavy; even breathing was hard—something heavy weighed down on his chest, making breathing in the too-thick air even harder while his heart pushed the near sludge through his veins.

It was horrible, why had he tried so hard to get here? Here where the world sounded wrong, but he couldn't quite grasp why. It felt wrong too, but again, he couldn't say how.

A soft tapping on his shoulder made him open his eyes, and he was greeted to a blur in the shape of a person. He couldn't really see them, but they were smiling, obnoxiously happy about everything. He could feel it. He groaned and shut his eyes again; he couldn't be bothered with them, he wanted to go back to sleep. He wanted to get back in that water and sink, he regretted this already. Everything was a mess, his memories and thoughts scrambled by a fog, and he was so tired. Trying to arrange things was so much work—too much work.

He was being tapped again. He wanted to punch that person and their stupid, unfounded happiness, it was infuriating. With too much effort, he looked at the face, forcing his eyes to focus, discovering the face belonged to a rather plain-looking woman in a horrible pale green uniform. She was smiling and talking, but he couldn't hear her.

He couldn't hear anything.

He turned back to his memories, desperately searching through that fog for answers, answers he knew he didn't want but needed.


	58. The Morning After

Penny woke to the feel of warm, sun-leathered skin under her cheek and the feeling of safety, security of being held in Gordon's arm. He lay on his back, the single limb under her head, hand resting on her shoulder.

She stretched, happy and content, and peered about the room. The window had been left open form the night before and was currently fluttering on the warm, early morning breeze, with the smell of the sea air and chirping of birds as the light crept in across the floor.

Right then, everything was perfect.

The world and all its woes were a million miles away. She reached over him, curious as to the time. She should really get up. The movement caused him to stir, mumbling softly pulling her closer and wrapping both arms about her, kissing her softly without seeming to truly wake. The WASP cap from the night before had apparently been left on, it slipped forward and bumped her on the head. She looked at him and found herself once again smiling. His face was in hidden in the shadow of the cap, and she noted that for the first time in weeks he looked peaceful. She wasn't a fool, though—once he woke up, that anger would be back, and she was saddened at the thought that any peace he got was only fleeting. She pushed it aside, 'enjoy the moment' and briefly found herself wondering how many people would kill to be her right then.

She lay there for a while longer before the lack of doing something got too much, and carefully Penny attempted to extract herself without waking him, sadly failing. The man grumbled, sliding his other arm around her waist and pulled her back, ignoring the half-hearted protests as he cuddled up against her, mumbling a solid, 'No.'

'Gordon,' she sighed, lifting the cap so she could look at his face, 'I need to get up.' He groaned again, rolling on his back and stretching to reach the alarm, one arm still around her. She took the moment to enjoy the view.

'It's only...' He studded it and gave a disgusted sound. 'Too early, you can wait a couple of hours,' he said, rolling back to her, once again cuddling against her and holding tight, using her as a pillow. The cap might have obscured his face but she could feel him smiling. she signed again and beat him playfully with the cap. 'I need to get up, let go.' Her tone was soft but gave away she meant it, and with some reluctance he let go. She smirked and replaced the cap, deliberately low over his eyes as she stepped from the bed and went about recovering her clothing, trying not the notice as Gordon grinned.

'Why the rush anyway?' The question came mostly lost a yawn and there were a few uncomfortable pops of joints as he stretched. She cringed, silently cursing the man's joints and knowing her reasoning was about the sour the pleasant start to the day. 'I want to get showered, dressed and make myself presentable to go out.' She pulled the top over her head hoping he wouldn't ask where. He already knew. Why make it more painful?

'Go where?' She heard him sit up, forcing out a breath through his nose tinged with annoyance. Turning, she looked at him; he had pulled his knees to rest against them as he toyed with the cap, picking at the sun guard. He was going to make her say it. She frowned and walked back to the bed, sitting on the edge and taking the cap. She threw it across the room and waited until he looked at her.

'I am going to see your brothers, and I am going to get answers, and then I am going to find John.' He kept his face neutral. 'Are you going to come with me to get those?'


	59. Refocus

Scott had spent a shameful amount of time in bed over the last week and a bit, doing nothing unless he had to or was forced to. He just couldn't see the point—or simply didn't want to.

He had no reason to, really. Why bother?

He was currently in bed, having managed to roll onto his side and away from the door after a spectacular argument with a doctor in which his breakfast had been thrown and he had managed to hit someone, judging from the sudden cry and announcement that whatever it was had been hot. So now he felt like he was on a timeout and no one had come to see him in a fair few hours. There was a soft knock at his door, and Scott pulled the sheet over his head in a move he knew what utterly childish but frankly summed up his feelings all too well while giving the message that he did not want to talk to anyone in anyway. A brief thought reminded him that if Alan had been doing this, then he would have fallen on the late teen like a ton of bricks and told him to grow up. Funny how things change…

'Mister Tracy?' the soft voice of the ever-patience nurse Kathy called. She was far too nice and had an irritating way of making him feel bad whenever he snapped at her. If he ever got out of here, he would have to find a way to really apologise to her.

'Mister Tracy?' she said again when he didn't reply. He pulled the covers down and rolled onto his back, for a brief moment worried that he would fall off the bed when he forgot to check where the edge was, and dully mumbled a yes.

'I thought you might be interested in seeing your brother?'

He sighed; he should go and visit Virgil, he hadn't in a few days and he felt awful about it. He really did, but…

'Why?' He couldn't be bothered and almost didn't care. He was alone, and it was his fault he was. He had made his bed and he was laying in it. He had no excuse or alibi for what he had done, so he would take the result as they came; that didn't mean he wasn't going to sulk, though.

'Because Mister Tra—' She stopped herself. 'Because Virgil is awake.'

Everything was pushed aside, forgotten; his own woes and regrets were reduced to nothing with those words as he sat up. 'What?'

He could hear the smile in her tone as she spoke again. 'Virgil woke up a few hours ago and has been given the all clear. I thought you might like to know. Though he is currently drifting and confused, you understand.'

'Er, yeah. Of course.' Scott didn't care—he had been so resigned to his brother's lack of recovery or simply his death that he really hadn't thought about anything else.

'So, would you like to go see him?'


	60. Missing

Slowly and awkwardly, life on the island had started crawling back towards some kind of functionality over the last week. That's not to say things were particularly good, but they were certainly better. News of Virgil had buoyed the overall mood, but that wasn't that hard, really. Penny and Gordon were off playing detective and searching for John, who had vanished, likely to a safe house. They all had one—one no one else knew about. It was a safety measure.

Should they be hunted.

Hunted like now.

Kayo was standing in the kitchen pretending to wash dishes while Alan's grandmother spoke to him in hushed tones as he poked at the food before him. Brains sat opposite him, to her looking like he wanted the ground to open up and eat him, and honestly she didn't blame him. The room sat in awkward tension, the matriarch and the baby of the household sat at loggerheads. She stood in the opinion that John had made his bed, he had picked his side and made perfectly clear where his allegiances were. He had no place in the family now, as he rather clearly to her wanted no part of it.

Alan stood on the other end, her polar opposite. John needed to be reminded who his family was, he needed to be shown he still had a place. He needed to be forgiven. The disagreement had led to an icy feeling that was making the fractures all the clearer—the lines had been drawn and people were falling into place and factions made.

Alan stood suddenly, hands flat on the table, the stall tumbling, locking eyes with the woman. Kayo watched from the corner of her vision; Alan wasn't the baby of the family right then, he was man battling for his brothers.

'No,' he growled, turning and walking away, leaving Ruth to stand there fuming.


	61. To the Bitter End

Ruth had spent her life fighting. Fighting tooth and nail for her family. fighting to keep them safe.

She had carried the weight of the world, and then she had met him: Grant.

He made her safe.

Suddenly she hadn't needed to fight, she was safe. They had settled down and had children.

She had enjoyed stopping.

Life disagreed, though, it had stripped her of her family, one by one. Every time she thought it would leave her with someone, it kicked her again, and all she could do was ask why. What had she done to deserve this?

Now she sits in her room, clutching the locket. It holds her heart, her soul—her family. More importantly, it holds the faces of the people who have long since gone: dead or lost to her. It holds the faces of her husband, her sons, and now holds John. She runs her thumb over the small portrait, the child with bright fire red hair and missing teeth.

He'd been happy.

They all had.

She had loved that day. It was the last photo taken of the family as a whole, and it had a naturalness to it. Jeff had hated it, he wanted a nice, 'proper' family photo for Lucy, but she had loved it. It had her boys being themselves: Alan sleeping, Gordon being restrained by his mother for the photo, being made to stay still too long. Scott and Virgil had been separated, a desperate and futile attempt to stop them plotting; they were awful for causing trouble. The original terrible two, Alan and Gordon for all their effort simply had nothing on them; Scott and Virgil had done it first, they were just following in their footsteps.

And then there was John. She wondered briefly where it all went so wrong. She had failed him; somewhere along the way, he had changed, shifted. The little boy who grinned as he listened to his father's tales of space had turned into a man who was now fleeing his family after attempting, and technically succeeding, in killing his brother.

How?

 _How?_

She shut the locket, clutching it close as she clung on to the memories of the boy with fire red hair and missing teeth, the boy who drove his father mad with questions, because he always needed to know more.


	62. Sunrise

Eos had named herself after the goddess of the dawn; she saw herself as an awakening, the dawn of a new era. So when it became apparent it would be easier for his brothers to interact with her, and perhaps eventually trust her if she had a face, she chose the same form as her name. After much searching, she found one she liked. Golden ringlets that fell in waves over her shoulders, the crisp white cloth that hung from one shoulder, and her favourite feature: four gold wings, two of which were large and expansive; the remaining two were small, and she tended to rest over her shoulders.

Alan (she liked him) had asked her to look into possible locations which John might use if he was on the run, an idea she would have found utterly laughable if not for more recent events. The first person to have ever shown her kindness was a murderer.

It was an unsettling notion.

It also showed she had a lot to learn about trust and that her first instinct on humans was perhaps correct, something to think about later, though. Right now she was informing Alan (she really did liked him) Gordon and Kayo (not so fond of her) about her findings.

'With no transport or access to money, I've traced all his known cards. He is probably within this area.' Spreading her hands stretched out the small cube she'd been holding onto, her original form in many ways. The cube twisted, sprawling out into a map. 'I've searched the area in question, comparing his habits against local bookings, and—'

Kayo frowned. 'Get to the point, Eos.'

Circuits bristling, the AI cleared her throat. 'The point is that I've narrowed it down to this area.'

'That area is huge.'

'It's as narrow as I can get it.'

'And still might be wrong.'

'He doesn't want to be found.' She rotated the map, the city turning before her. 'I've picked out the most likely areas, but he is hiding from me—he knows I'll be the one searching.'


	63. Naunet

John paced the small room. The flat was a single room above a Chinese takeout. Small, cramped, with nothing more than a bed and bathroom. He hated it, but it served its purpose; he had picked it because he hated it. The idea was to be hard to find, and who would look for one of the richest men in the world, an astronaut with several books to his name, here?

The only possible way he could be found would be Eos—she knew his habits, the way he thought, but he didn't plan to be here long. Just until he had spoken to Naunet. They would talk and then he could find somewhere else. Somewhere truly secure. Safe.

They would be hunting for him. Searching and when they found him…

He dreaded to think about it. This may be a dream, may be untrue, but he didn't know what would happen if he died. It could get him out, but it could also spell his end.

He couldn't risk that.

Not yet.

He had to wait until 7pm, then he would call her and demand to know what to do now.

This had been her idea, and now he needed a new plan.


	64. Choices

Alan couldn't believe it. He had marched to his room and slammed the door, before screaming. Falling back against it, he slid down it until sitting on the floor, pulling his legs close.

How could John do this to them?

How could they do this to John?

How had this even happened?

His mind spun a million miles an hour, firing questions he couldn't possibly have answers to. Instead, he was left hurting.

Their grandmother had cut John from the family—she had decided for them what the answer was.

How could she? What right did she have to do that for them?

It was _them_ he had wounded, tried to kill and rip apart. _Them_.

She hadn't walked into their lives until later, much later. His earliest memories were of turning to his brothers. Not her.

Turning to John or Scott or Virgil.

She had walked in when he was too old for her to be a mother like she wanted to. Scott and Virgil were teens, they had been dealing with their father for too long for her to treat them like she had tried to. They respected her because they had been taught to, she was their elder and family, but she had failed to save them when they needed it, and that was always there. They would listen and take into account her thoughts and feelings, but ultimately it was their choice, not hers, and this was one of those occasions.

His choice.

And his choice was to save his brother. Brothers.

Whatever had happened, whoever this was, it wasn't his brother. It wasn't John.


	65. Muted Silence

Scott didn't know what he was supposed to do now he was here, if he was honest. He was blind, and his brother deaf.

It like some cruel and sick joke, the one person he wanted to talk to, he couldn't, and he wasn't sure he would ever really be able to again.

For now, though, he clung to his brother's shirt while Virgil hummed for him.

Part of him was pleased Virgil couldn't hear him—it meant he could bare his soul to someone without judgment. It was selfish, and he hated himself for it, but he had to. Needed to.

He could tell Virgil he was sorry, beg for forgiveness, tell him how much he hated him for still being able to see. All of it, and Virgil lay there oblivious, and if he wasn't, he never said anything about it.

They could all lip read to some level, Virgil was, by a miracle, pretty good at it, so communication shouldn't be too hard, in theory.

It didn't seem right for what Scott had to tell him though.

Virgil knew that technically his heart had stopped for almost two minutes due to an adrenaline surge. He had died and was now suffering for that; though he would get better, it was going to suck for a while. What Scott hadn't worked out how to tell him was what exactly had caused that surge.

He hadn't worked out how to tell that John had tried to kill him. That their brother had planned this, stolen the supplies and then actively pushed the chemicals into his system and lied to them all about what had happened. It just didn't seem like something you just dropped on someone between small talk. Not telling him, though, was eating at Scott, and in the end, the silence and waiting got too much.

He tapped at his brother. 'Virg?' And then he waited for the response. 'Virgie?'

'Scooter?'

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he twisted the sheets between his fingers, blinking unseeingly at them.

'I've got something I need to tell you…'


	66. Empty Silence

'The adrenaline surge was deliberate.' Virgil frowned, watching as his brother laid out what he already knew. Someone had tried to kill him, he knew this. He was hardly happy about it.

'Yes…'

'It was John.'

'What?' He blinked, watching his brother's expression sadden. Movements darkened as he formed the words, slow and careful for him.

'John. Johnny did it.' The words were pained and fractured, and he looked away, the unseeing eyes unable to face him.

He sat in silence, mind stalled as tried to work out the words he knew and understood but couldn't make fit. They didn't make sense.

It just didn't make sense.

He couldn't…

He was pulled from his musings as Scott pawed desperately as his bed. He'd probably been begging him to answer. He couldn't hear, though, trapped in this crushingly empty silence, this muted world.

He looked up, watching his brother's lips as his expression twisted in desperation.

'Virgie? Virgie, please. Say something.'

He sighed. 'I'm still here, Scooter.' He hoped his words were soft, that the sudden exhaustion wasn't in his tone. Scott nodded, his hands finally finding his shirt as he fingers twisted in the material.

They sat in silence for a moment as he turned the words over in his mind.

'John?' Scott nodded. It still made no sense to him, but he wasn't sure it ever would. And then something struck him hard in the chest, almost winding him. 'How much of this is John's fault?'

He watched his brother's face. Watched as the frown formed and he "looked" up at him.

'What?'

'How much of everything that has happened is John's fault?'

'I don't… I don't know.'


	67. History

Something was wrong. The way John had been acting, she should have known. Should have noticed and spoken up. He had been so secretive over the last year, he had hidden his calls from her, his emails and other communication methods, going as far as to actively write her out of certain parts of Five. She had to _ask_ permission to access these areas. It had made her circuits bristle, but what was she to do? This was his home first and foremost, and everyone needed privacy. Everyone had secrets. Even her. On top of that was the fact that she had the entire world to roam if she wanted while he was trapped there; it made sense to her that he might decide he needed space in terms of what he did, at least it had at the time.

And while she did go exploring, she was safe in the knowledge that her core, her soul, so to speak, was secure on the island. No matter what happened, she was effectively immortal.

Or at least, she thought she had been. Now, looking back, having had Brain's help to get her into the previously locked-off areas of Five, she began to wonder. There was something very wrong here.

She had spent a long time running in fear, terrified of what she had done and caused before she found John, and that fear had made her act first. She had almost killed one of the people that would be her greatest tool in keeping herself safe. Safe from before.

Or at least she thought he would.

Now, though, now as she looked at these patterns before her, tiny and microscopic but too familiar, she found a message.

A message hidden behind a message, she had had to read between the lines, as the humans liked to say. This was one just for her, hidden just under the surface of his.

A message for her and her alone.

One that bought back all that fear she had spent her entire life fleeing, one that made her wish so desperately for John to come back and keep her safe.

 _'Hello, Eos.'_


	68. Tracking

This was getting painful. This hole in him that did nothing but smoulder with hate. a need to find his brother and… He didn't know, and if he was honest, he was afraid to find him. Afraid of what he would do when he did.

Penny squeezed his hand gently, pulling him from his thoughts. She smiled, and the anger dulled, turning into a numb ache.

He sighed, scratching at his ear while they waited for the man to return.

This was the seventh place they'd been today, and it had been four days they'd been looking so far.

John would have moved on by now, they were trailing, and that caused that fire to stir.

'We'll find him,' she soothed. 'I promise he'll answer.'

Gordon nodded; any words that he might have said were gone as the man returned, book and papers in hand with a small, pretty woman in tow.

'The only person we've had here was one Glenn Johnson.' Gordon's heart skipped a beat as the man pointed to the woman. 'Do you have a picture? She dealt with the man the other day when he left, gave us a tip after staying for a couple of days and then moved on.'


	69. Scents

it was horrid.

The feeling as Gordon handed over the photo of John to the woman. Yi, the man had called her.

She took the photo and nodded immediately with a small shy smile, glancing at the older man.

'Yeah. That is Glenn Johnson. He left yesterday.'

Gordon swore, turning to storm from the shop. She sighed and apologised, explaining they had been looking for him for so long now, and it was frustrating to have missed him by such a small margin, before asking if there was any chance they might be able to look over where he had been staying. When Yi, and the man she'd found out was named Ken, seemed unsure, she offered them a few hundred dollars. Money so often bridged problems.

The room was small, and honestly—she felt—disgusting. Damp and cold and grime-filled with a bed she felt sick even thinking about and a small, equally rancid bathroom. Ken went back downstairs to the shop front while Yi explained to Penny that Mister Johnson, as she referred to him, had been renting the room for years with actually visiting, but he paid well so they never bothered to look elsewhere; it was convenient. Collect the money without worry, then about three days ago he turned up and said he would be staying a few days before leaving and cancelling his contract with them, though he did hand them a year's worth of rent in thanks.

Odd. Very, very odd. To have had that much money on him, he would either have had to have been planning this long in advance or have been given the money to work with. Either way broke her heart. Either way this was bad and getting worse by the moment.

She turned to Yi. 'Do you happen to know if he made any calls?'

'We asked if he would need to, as we only have one working phone at the moment, so it would have to be shared. He said yes, he had a call to make each day at 7pm while he stayed, the call would last no more than an hour, and we agreed on it.'

'I don't suppose you could call your line provider to find out where that went. Don't worry. I'll pay for the information.' She smiled. It was so nice to have a lead on where to go next.

* * *

A _quick note to say sorry for the delays, life happened. next time there will be a big gap I will update my profile to keep people in the loop - Reb_


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